You Called Me Captain
by Scrawlers
Summary: Anyone can be a guest traveler on the TARDIS. It takes more than that to be a companion. After an adventure in the year 9637 goes awry, Captain Jack finds out just what that means. [Light Ninth Doctor/Captain Jack/Rose OT3]


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Doctor Who or any of its properties. If I did, Steven Moffat would not be in charge right now.

**Notes: **This was written forever ago and posted to Tumblr. In an attempt to update this account with some things, I decided to post it here. Takes place after "The Doctor Dances" but before "Bad Wolf," since it's in "Bad Wolf" that we see Jack with his TARDIS key.

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><p><strong>You Called Me Captain<strong>

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><p>The first thing that registered was sharp pain arcing through his upper body, lashing along his lungs and heart like a snake suddenly poked with a sharp stick.<p>

The pain struck him every time he took a shaky breath, even as he tensed involuntarily, as if holding as still as possible would make it easier to breathe without hurting. When that proved ineffective, Jack slowed his breathing down, breathing through his nose, trying to take very slow, very careful breaths, in hope of easing around whatever was hurting him. It didn't help much, but working _with _the pain instead of _against _it made it easier to bear as he shifted against what he was laying on, trying to get an idea of his surroundings before he opened his eyes.

The ground—if it was ground—beneath his back was hard, and as he twitched his fingers and splayed his palms flat against it, he felt his skin slide along . . . leather? It felt like leather, but firm—like it was trying to be a cushion but didn't quite make it. It wasn't the ground, then, unless they'd gone to a planet made of leather that he wasn't even sure existed. His lips twitched into a little smile at the thought, imagining how Rose's face would be a mixture of disbelief and wonder at the sight of—

His eyes snapped open as he threw himself into a seated position, agony exploding in his chest and ricocheting throughout his torso, no doubt the result of cracked ribs. His head throbbed and sent nausea rolling through his stomach, bile rising in his throat as his vision swam and his eyes stung. It didn't register that someone was talking to him until he felt a firm hand on his shoulder, and when he turned to look, he had to blink once or twice before he could register that it was the Doctor that he was staring at.

"Take it easy," the Doctor said, clapping him lightly on the shoulder before he turned to look at a monitor next to the bed Jack was sitting on. "Unless you want to give having your ribs pop out of your chest another go."

Jack stared at him a moment, taking in the Doctor's calm demeanor, trying to get his breathing back to slow and shallow, swallowing in a futile attempt to wet his dry throat. Finally, he croaked, "Doctor—Rose. Is she . . . ?"

The Doctor looked back at him, meeting his eyes for a solid second, before he grinned and motioned to the end of Jack's bed. Jack looked over, another painful throb echoing through his head at how quickly he turned, but the panic he'd felt upon thinking of Rose faded into a smile when he saw her. The position she was in couldn't have been the most comfortable, seated in a chair at the foot of his bed as she was, slumped over it with her head resting on her arms, fast asleep. But even if the position wasn't the most comfortable, she was there. Safe. Alive.

The tension drained from Jack's shoulders, and his breathing finally slowed enough so that his ribs could stop screaming in protest.

"So then," the Doctor said casually, and Jack looked back over to see the Doctor holding a small medical flashlight, which he brought up to shine in Jack's eyes. "Mind telling me what happened? And hold still while you do, if you don't mind."

"You don't know?" Jack asked, grimacing, but holding his eyes open the best he could anyway. He couldn't see due to the light the Doctor was using to look at his eyes, but he could hear the eyeroll in the Doctor's voice.

"I know perfectly well what happened. I'm trying to see if _you _do."

"Oh." The Doctor set the flashlight to the side and typed a few notes on a small device hooked to the monitor next to Jack's bed, and Jack frowned, glancing back over at Rose. He'd felt panicked when he'd thought of her, as if she was in danger, but he couldn't remember . . . "We were . . . in the year 6937, weren't we? On the planet . . . Trilliofladorius. In the Astaron Galaxy."

"9637, actually, but you got the rest correct," the Doctor said, almost absentmindedly, though Jack knew him well enough by now to know that he was paying rapt attention. "Go on."

"We were . . . there was some kind of trouble. Like usual." The Doctor grinned and laughed a little, and despite how awful he felt, Jack couldn't help but grin a little himself. "We got separated. We were . . . underground? You weren't there." The Doctor said nothing, but Jack thought he saw a muscle in the Doctor's jaw clench. "Rose and I were . . . we were running. We had to get something to . . . somewhere."

"Something to somewhere. It's the specificity of your story that really makes it engaging." The words might've sounded harsh coming from anyone else, but Jack could hear the teasing note in the Doctor's voice—the little bit of jest to try and get him to relax. He put on an expression of mock offense.

"Hey, give me a break. I'm pretty sure I'm working with a concussion here. Is this the same bedside manner you give all your patients?"

"Only the best." Jack looked away, hoping the monitors he was hooked up to wouldn't be able to show the happy swoop he felt in his stomach at the compliment, before the Doctor said, "So, you and Rose were underground, taking something to somewhere. What then?"

"We were running down a long hallway, I think. Someone or something was chasing us. There was some kind of explosion . . . something to do with time. I think we were delivering a clock? Or, no, wait—it was the explosion that was timed. Whatever we were delivering, we had to get it there in a certain amount of time, and we didn't make it. There was an explosion, and the tunnel collapsed, and . . ." Jack trailed off, and looked over at Rose, whose back was rising and falling steadily with each breath. After a moment of silence, the Doctor picked up.

"You two almost made it." Jack looked back at him, but the Doctor was watching Rose. "What you had was a trans-spatial data drive that contained the disengaging mechanism for the hypernebulous transfusion engine they used to generate the energy necessary to not only provide the planet's citizens with the energy they needed, but also accelerate their technological growth centuries above what it should have been."

"And accelerating their technological growth that quickly was . . . bad." The Doctor gave him a _look_—the one Rose called the 'just dribbled on your shirt look,' if Jack wasn't mistaken—before continuing.

"An engine like that, they couldn't control it. The only option was to shut it down before the entire planet went up in tiny chunks. Fortunately, I managed to cut enough of its power so that the entire planet wasn't lost, but . . ."

"The engine still went 'ka-boom,'" Jack supplied, and the Doctor nodded, his lips pressed into a grim line.

"Yes. The tunnel you were in collapsed, though the room just ahead of you was safe. From what Rose told me, you pushed her in ahead of you and shielded her from the blast and the rubble with your own body." The Doctor smiled a little, looking back at Rose. "She suffered some bruises, but nothing too serious." He turned back to Jack, his smile fading to a more serious expression. "You saved her life."

Jack considered the Doctor's words for a moment before he huffed a laugh, which was quickly followed by a grimace at the ache that rippled through him when he did so. "I guess I did, but it was . . . nothing special."

"Nothing special?" The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "Rose's life is nothing special, now?" Jack rolled his eyes.

"I don't mean it like that. I just mean, you know. We're . . . a team." He waved one hand in a gesture between the three of them. "We protect each other. Saving Rose—I didn't think about it, I just did it. Either one of you would have done the same for me, right?"

"I suppose we would," the Doctor answered after a moment, and once again, despite how miserable he felt physically, Jack couldn't help but beam for the thrilled swoop in his chest. "Now, you've got a concussion, three broken ribs, and more bruises and cuts than this TARDIS has rooms. That said, you have two options: you can either continue to rest up here in the med-bay, or if you feel like walking, you can recuperate in your own room. Your choice."

"I think I'll take my chances with my own room. No offense to the med-bay, but I've always hated hospitals." The Doctor flashed him a grin.

"Man after my own heart."

"That's the plan," Jack said, and gave the Doctor a wink before he asked, "What about Rose? Should we wake her? Why is she sleeping there, anyway?"

"She refused to leave." The Doctor's voice was tinged with exasperation as well as a bit of annoyance, but Jack could hear warm fondness there, too. "Stayed in here for thirty-two hours before she finally fell asleep. Nothing I could do could make her leave before you woke up." As the Doctor walked around to the end of Jack's bed and lightly shook Rose by the shoulder to rouse her, Jack allowed himself a private smile. He already loved Rose to pieces, but if he hadn't, he was pretty sure that alone would have won him over.

"Wha . . . Doctor, I . . ." Rose's sleepy protests trailed off as she sat up and looked around, blinking the sleep from her eyes. As her gaze landed on Jack she sat up straight, and nearly tripped over herself bolting around the bed to get to his side. "Jack! You all right? How're you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Rose," he assured her, giving her his most winning smile. She smiled in response. "Really, no need to worry. Give me a day or two and I'll be ready to sweep you off your feet all over again." Her smile gained a bit of tongue touched against her teeth, and the Doctor rolled his eyes.

"Save your flirting for when you're fully healed. Both of you need to get to bed." Rose turned to face the Doctor, her smile fading.

"Doctor, I'm fine, I just slept—"

"—for three hours. Do you really think your simple little ape body can survive on three hours of sleep after being awake for over thirty-two?" Jack couldn't see her face from his vantage point, but he could imagine her scowl. "Get some rest. Doctor's orders."

"Yeah, yeah, all right." Rose turned back to Jack, her expression softening. "If you need anything, let me know, yeah? If you ask the TARDIS to let you find me, she'll usually listen. She might even put my room on the same side of the ship as yours this time, if you ask."

Jack couldn't help it—he laughed. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Rose. Sweet dreams, okay?"

"Yeah. You, too. And . . . thank you." Quickly, she swooped in and kissed him on the cheek before she turned, smiling at the Doctor as she exited the med-bay. Jack didn't miss the disgruntled look on the Doctor's face, and he cleared his throat.

"So . . . think the TARDIS has my room on this side of the ship today?"

The Doctor looked back at him, and the disgruntled expression shifted to a grin. "Let's find out. Think you can stand?"

Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed, took a slow breath, and then hopped down onto his feet, keeping his fingers tightly wrapped around the side of the bed in an attempt to steady himself. His vertigo took a moment to adjust, his legs shaking a bit, no doubt due to both his injuries and all the time he spent on the bed instead of on his feet, but after a moment, he looked back to the Doctor.

"Yeah. I think I'm good." The Doctor nodded.

"Right, then. This way, Captain."

Jack was granted two mercies as they left the med-bay: one, the Doctor kept pace with him instead of striding ahead, either because he knew Jack wouldn't be able to keep up in his current state or because he wanted to make sure Jack wasn't going to spontaneously collapse in the middle of the corridor, and two, the TARDIS _had_ decided to relocate his room so that it was close by. Instead of being on the far side of the ship, over by the anti-gravity room like it ordinarily was, this time his room was just down the hall and around the corner, nearer to the kitchen.

"Here we are, then. You should find anything you need in there. If you do need anything else, the TARDIS should be able to provide it. Failing that, come find me. I think it's best if you let Rose sleep for now."

Jack figured that there were reasons other than the rest Rose obviously needed for the Doctor to say that, but he knew better than to say it. Instead, he raised two fingers in a brief salute and answered, "Yes, sir." The Doctor's smile became a bit more genuine, and as he turned away he paused, patting down his leather jacket. Finally, he produced a small silver key from one of the inner pockets, and held it out to Jack.

"Oh, and, uh—here. It's about time you had this." Jack took the key, turning it carefully over in his palm, the metal strangely warm against his skin. "Key to the TARDIS. Don't lose it—you'll never get another one if you do. Don't give it to anyone, either. That's the same as losing it, and it'll earn you a one-way trip back to wherever you came from, got it?"

"Yes, sir," Jack answered, more genuinely this time. He closed his fingers around the key, holding it in a tight fist, his throat feeling strangely tight. "I won't let it out of my sight." The Doctor grinned.

"Good man. Now get some rest. The faster you heal, the faster Rose can stop her fussing." Jack nodded and turned to his door as the Doctor started down the hall, but as he reached for the door handle he paused, hand around it, and looked back down the hallway.

"Wait—Doctor." When the Doctor looked back, Jack said, "Back there, in the med-bay—before we left, you . . ."

"I . . . ?" The Doctor prompted. A slow smile upturned the corners of Jack's lips.

"You called me 'Captain.'"

The Doctor rolled his eyes and shook his head, appearing disgruntled again. But this time, instead of merely looking annoyed, he almost looked agitated—the same way he always did whenever anyone pointed out the affection he had for Rose. Jack's smile grew. "So what if I did? Rose does it all the time—I'm bound to pick up the bad habit."

"Rose calls me either 'Jack,' or 'Captain Jack.' Never 'Captain' on its own," Jack pointed out, and the Doctor glared at him.

"So you want to make something of it, then? Tell you what: you use your tiny human brain to puzzle out what that means in your room, while I go work on repairing some of the wiring in the TARDIS console room." With that, the Doctor turned on his heel and stomped down the hall, muttering something beneath his breath that Jack didn't quite catch. Still grinning, Jack finally turned and opened the door to his room—and froze in the doorway.

For the past few weeks, the best way to describe his room would have been "generic." It had been nice enough, with a bed, a dresser, a table lamp and a picture of a spacescape on the wall, but there was nothing personal about it. Nothing to really make it feel like _his_.

Now, however . . .

The simple bed had been swapped out for a queen-sized bed, complete with a thick mattress and boxspring, and a wooden frame that contained small drawers on the bottom—two rows of them, stretching the length of the frame, along with shelving built into the headboard. There was a large wooden desk on one side of the room, complete with a computer terminal and various books along the top shelf, along with a separate bookcase along one wall and a tall, high wardrobe. Jack was pretty sure the door in the back of the room led to a personal bathroom, and there was a chin-up bar beside the bathroom door, along with a small rack of dumbbells and other exercise equipment. The carpet beneath his feet was nice and plush, as well—TARDIS blue—and the walls were a nice shade of grey that reminded Jack of his favorite moody skies. Jack took in the room, soaking in the image for a minute, before he turned his eyes to his bedroom door.

Up until that point, his door had been blank. The Doctor and Rose both had intricate metal ornaments on their doors—the Doctor's a circular design that Jack was pretty sure was the language from his home world, and Rose's a wolf for reasons none of them could fathom—but Jack's had been blank since the day he'd arrived. He'd guessed it was because he was new. But now, just as his room had changed, so had his door. there, on a rectangular bronze plaque, read the words _Captain's Quarters. _Jack ran his fingers along the plaque, tracing each letter, before he finally stepped into his room and shut the door behind him.

Up until that point, his stay in the TARDIS had felt like an extended vacation at the best resort in the universe. He'd loved every minute, but there had always been something missing. But now?

He smiled as he set his key on the beside table, and carefully laid down on his bed, staring up at a ceiling that reflected a dark sky covered in stars.

Now, it felt like home.


End file.
